


Keep Us Both Warm

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: The Rookie (TV 2018)
Genre: Banter, Christmas Season, Cold Weather, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Ice Cream, Ice Cream Parlors, Lucy is adorable, Tim is SO FAR GONE over his rookie, Tim is whiny, Winter, but definitely set at Christmastime, it's not super Christmassy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: "How are you even eating ice cream right now? It’s like nine below.”“It’s 43, Tim.”Or, Tim will indulge Lucy her every whim, but not without his fair share of teasing.
Relationships: Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Keep Us Both Warm

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea like two days ago. Started the outline this morning, wrote the whole fic in two hours at work, then came home and edited it. It's the first of ... hopefully many winter/Christmas fics I'll be posting this year. Enjoy!

Lucy's ice cold hand feels tiny in Tim’s. 

Their fingers are interlaced, through the added layers of their gloves, and his hand practically swallows hers. He loves it, though, the way they hold hands any chance they get, that it feels like he’s protecting her, even as he knows she’s perfectly capable of taking care of herself. 

And sometimes, taking care of him, too. Like now, walking down the street, when she catches him off guard. He’d been adjusting his jacket with his free hand, trying to pull it tighter around himself to stave off the harsh wind and grumbling internally that he’d even let himself get dragged out onto the sidewalks at all. They could have gone right back to the truck after dinner, could have been back at his house by now, curled up on the couch in front of some mindless TV show. 

Instead, they’re out in the frigid cold, because after an impromptu dinner at their favorite hole-in-the-wall Thai place, Lucy had suggested they go for a walk, then dragged him far enough up the street to see the lights on the boardwalk. The bright colors had flickered in the distance, and Tim had wondering to himself why they even bother running the rides when it’s this cold outside. Surely no one in LA is stupid enough to get on a roller coaster when it’s already freezing cold. Hell, he wouldn’t be out here if it weren’t for Lucy. 

But he’s always been powerless against the way her face lights up when she gets an idea. 

Even if it leaves him half-numb, walking into the wind on the way back to the parking lot. 

But all of a sudden, as he tries to wrap his jacket further around his front without having to let go of Lucy’s hand, Tim feels a sharp tug on his arm. The wind stops biting against his nose, but he can feel the pressure of it on the side of his face as he turns, following the pull of Lucy’s hand across the street. There aren’t any cars coming, when he looks up, but he knows she wouldn’t have pulled him out into traffic. They’re in a crosswalk, the orange hand flashing on the traffic signal as they step back up onto the curb. 

Then she’s leading him down the sidewalk again, both of them hunched forward against the wind as they keep walking toward where they’d left the truck. 

Tim can’t figure out what’s going on, isn’t sure why Lucy dragged him across the street just to keep walking the same direction. Still, he follows her willingly; he'd follow her anywhere she might lead him, without question, so readily that it scares him a little sometimes. And she seems to have a destination in mind, from the way she’s a couple steps ahead of him, joined hands hanging in the space between them. 

He could ask her where she’s going, sure, but he has to admit that part of him is interested in the surprise. He doesn’t want to question it and make her think he’s not interested. So he trails behind her, and just hopes that she’s headed for something indoors. 

The next thing he knows, they’re turning again. He’d been staring at Lucy’s back, trying to focus on moving one foot in front of the other no matter how many minutes bit’s been since he could feel his legs. But she’s standing right beside him again, pulling on the handle of a glass door and making a set of festive red and green bells jingle on the inside. 

There’s a rush of warm air, such an instant relief that it’s almost painful as they step inside. Tim sighs as he glances around. Everything is pink and green, right down to the garland taped along the outside edge of the display case. The tubs inside are filled with bright lights and ice cream flavors in every color imaginable (and a few he’d never have dreamed of seeing in a food; the bright blue is a little off-putting, he has to admit). There’s a neon ice cream cone blinking on the wall, a felt Santa hat draped across the cherry on top. The young women behind the counter sing-song their greeting, and Tim barely refrains from rolling his eyes. 

“Seriously, Boot?” 

“Yes, seriously.” Lucy looks up at him. “This place makes the _best_ Oreo mint chip.” 

With that, she pulls Tim up to the counter and rolls onto her tiptoes to order. She can see over the case, Tim knows, but she’s _excited,_ and it’s like she can’t contain her energy without bouncing gently on the balls of her feet. She asks for the biggest waffle cone, two scoops of the Oreo mint chip, and a scoop of rocky road in the middle. 

She takes the cone when they reach the register, and Tim has to drop her hand for a moment to dig his wallet out of his pocket. He pays for the dessert and stuffs a couple dollars in the tip jar on the counter. Lucy nudges the back of his hand with hers as they approach the door, and he stops long enough to make sure she’s ready to go. The shop is so vivid that it nearly hurts to look at, but it’s warm, so if she wants to eat her ice cream here, he’s happy to indulge her. 

But he knows her well enough not to be surprised when she intertwines their fingers again and heads for the exit. 

“You’re sure you don’t want anything?” She asks as Tim holds the door for her, twisting his shoulders far enough to do it without letting go of her hand. 

“Yes, I’m sure. How are you even eating ice cream right now? It’s like nine below.” 

“It’s 43, Tim.” Lucy rolls her eyes at his exaggeration. “Sure, it’s chilly, but mint ice cream is a winter staple.” 

“No ice cream is cold-weather food,” Tim grumbles. Even through the glove, the fingers on his free hand are beginning to hurt as they wander back toward the truck. What a pair they are; him cramming his fist into his pocket, Lucy nibbling happily at an ice cream cone. “Cocoa, I’ll give you. Coffee, maybe. But ice cream? It’s _freezing.”_

“So I don’t have to rush to eat it before it melts.” 

“If anything, it’s getting more frozen,” Tim rolls his eyes, and nearly trips over Lucy when she takes a half-step to the side and pushes her shoulder against his torso in the middle of a step. He stumbles, catching one of his feet on the other in his effort to keep from stepping on her toes. When he’s caught his balance again (no thanks to Lucy, who just steps back and takes a bite from the edge of her cone), they’re both laughing. 

Tim drops her hand, but before either of them can mourn the lost contact, he’s got his arm wrapped around her waist. He pulls her into his side and presses his nose into the soft spot behind her ear as he presses a kiss to the corner of her jaw. He can feel her fingers, cool against his chest even through the layers of fabric between them as she pushes him away and yelps. 

“Your nose is _freezing!”_ She shrieks, reaching up to rub at the back of her neck. “How are you so cold?” 

“Because it’s cold out!” He rebuts. “How are you _not_ cold? You’re eating ice cream!” 

“Hmm,” Lucy pretends to consider the question, but he can see the amusement in her eyes as she swirls her tongue around the ice cream. “I guess I’m just hotter than you.” 

Tim rolls his eyes, but try as he might, he can’t keep the smile off his face. 

“I don’t think the weather has anything to do with that.” They’re stopped at a crosswalk, so he turns to look at her. “Hey, hold still. You’ve got a …" 

He trails off, bracing himself for the cold as he tugs one glove off. But he hardly feels the wind on his skin as he reaches down to cup Lucy’s chin, brushing his thumb along the tip of her nose to wipe away the smear of ice cream. 

She giggles as he runs his hand down the front of his jeans and puts the glove back on. Her nose is wrinkled up, but she’s grinning at Tim. He doesn't even try to keep himself from bending down to kiss the path his thumb had taken. 

Why should he deny himself that pleasure, when she’s right here, and so, so happy to be with him? 

The light changes just then, and they cross the street into the public lot where Tim had parked at the beginning of the evening. He walks Lucy around to the passenger side, where she pops the end of the cone into her mouth and smiles at him again. It’s tucked between her front teeth, poking out like a waffle-toasted tongue, and Tim barks out a laugh before he can even consider any other reaction. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know?” But he runs his hand up and down her arm anyway. “Honestly, ice cream in the dead of winter?” 

“It’s barely even December!” Lucy finishes chewing before she continues. “Besides, now I can do this.” 

She leans up to kiss him, standing on her toes just like she had at the ice cream counter. Tim leans into it, tangling their fingers together again and pushing her up against the door of the truck. She tastes like mint and chocolate, and even though both of their mouths are freezing, he knows it’s the highlight of his night. 

Lucy rolls back down, dragging her hand from his shoulder to rest inside his jacket, right over his heartbeat, as she smiles up at him. 

“And it’ll keep us both warm.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt from tumblr was "You can’t eat ice cream, it’s -9 degrees.”
> 
> Hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing!


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